“Not a bit,” said Max. That was all he needed to know, and he lunged toward the vampire, feet lifting from the ground as he slammed into the undead.
The Guardian crashed to the stone floor, and Max pivoted easily to slam his stake into the second sentinel, then whirled back to the one on the ground. Poof.
By the time the ash from the two guards had settled, Victoria, Brim, and Michalas had clambered onto the stony balcony from their hidden locations. Max made a movement toward the entrance, but Victoria grabbed his arm and tugged him away.
“What is it?” he asked, glancing at the others. They’d started to walk inside the cavern as planned and he was ready to go with them.
“I…” She looked up at him, her scratched, bruised face so beautiful, and yet fierce, it made his lungs hurt. “I love you.”
“I know that. What else?” he asked, tightening his hand on the stake, waiting for her to give him some other instruction.
She just looked at him and blinked. “Oh.”
“Anything else?”
“No. Let’s get on with it.” She smiled, and then, before his eyes, that softness in her face changed and she became the warrior.
Her green-and-gold-flecked eyes sharpened; her mouth, marred by a deep cut into her upper lip, firmed; her chin lifted. Short, curling hair hung crazily around her cheeks and jaw, making her look as though she’d just risen from a long night in bed, and she brandished a stake in one hand.
Despite the power and confidence emanating from her, Max had to acknowledge-and then dispel-the sudden visceral urge to pull her back, force her to let him go first… even send her back down the mountain. Not that there was a chance she’d listen.
He drew in a deep breath and followed her into the tall crevice.
She wears two vis bullae.
Yet he felt a wave of fear as she charged along the stone corridor ahead of him, her figure smaller and slighter than any of the others.
But then Max could stew no longer, for a wave of undead poured from the insides of the mountain. Eyes red or pink, some glowing magenta, the vampires swarmed the four Venators in the tall-ceilinged passageway, unleashed by the sentinels to keep the intruders out.
Familiar power surged through him, the flow of movement and the satisfaction of muscles bunching and sliding beneath his skin as he met the onslaught. After months without his powers, of fighting as a Venator without the grace of the vis bulla , this altercation was practically a joy.
His speed had returned, along with the powerful strength he was used to and the bare annoyance of discomfort, rather than the breathless slam of pain, over and over.
He wasn’t foolish enough to feel cocksure or lazy about the battle, of course. Especially with Victoria in the damn thick of it, and Lilith waiting somewhere deep inside like a skeletal black widow. But the pure pleasure of being whole again gave him even more power and capability.
The air was heady with undead ash, and the quiet explosions sounded like soft staccato beats in the confined area. From the corner of his eye, he caught the grace of Victoria’s lunge, and the smooth strike with her stake as she easily dispatched a Guardian vampire twice her size. She kicked out, pivoted, and then moved on to a different target. Thus reassured, Max made a low leap in the space and slammed into a cluster of undead, crashing them against the wall like puppets.
He lost himself in the fight. As it always did, everything seemed to slow around him, giving him ample time to thrust and kick, spin and stab before his opponents knew what struck them. His feet left the ground. He felt weightless and free as he dipped and glided low in the confined space.
They made headway, fighting the vampires back into the area of the hideaway where the passages branched off. Max knew that Lilith’s chambers were to the right, but he’d never been to the left or down the central passage.
As it turned out, he happened to be on the left side, well matched with an Imperial vampire whose blade thrust and gleamed wickedly. The Imperial flew low, and he and Max circled in the corridor, vacillating up and down and around along the left passage until the rest of the melee was behind them.
All the while Max lunged and whipped and turned, dodging and clashing with the Imperial, he was fully aware that Victoria was out of sight, clogged in the midst of the battle.
She is Illa Gardella.
He leapt and smashed his arm against the stone wall, for the passage had narrowed and settled lower. The Imperial laughed and swiped his blade up, scoring along Max’s right arm and drawing a long line of blood. The vampire’s eyes gleamed, and he lunged again. Max landed on the ground and somersaulted to his feet, surging up beneath the vampire as he came down. His upward motion sent the undead off balance, and Max helped him go, catapulting him into the wall with a ferocious shove.
She wears two vis.
The vampire crumpled to the ground, his sword clanging after him. Max bent forward and shoved the stake home, then whirled just in time to face his next attacker.
And so it went, one after the other, or two, or three, he pummeled and fought and tried not to think beyond the moment, trying to work his way back toward the main passageway.
When he finally dispatched the last undead foolish enough to come after him, Max dusted himself off, breathing heavily, and suddenly became aware of cries and shouts from behind him.
Turning, he saw that he’d been backed into an alcove ended by a heavy wooden door. A small barred window had been cut from the top, and he went to peer through it.
Inside thronged more than a dozen people, crying, wailing, pleading. Mortals. Lilith’s private storehouse of food.
“Christ,” he said, and began to tear down the door even as the prickling urge to find Victoria nagged at him. “Hold up. I’m here to help,” he called, even as he felt the presence of another undead behind him.
He readied his stake and turned.
Twenty-three
In Which Victoria Receives the Most Unpleasant of Surprises
Victoria lost sight of Max as she fought her way deeper into the caverns.
Brim slashed and stabbed nearby, and she caught a glimpse of Michalas’s red-blond curls once before she had to turn away and concentrate on her own battle.
The back of her neck burned as though ice slid over it, back and forth, without relief. Her back raged with pain from the claws and scrapes from last night, but as she moved more, it loosened and the discomfort faded to a throb.
She couldn’t and wouldn’t be distracted from her goal: Lilith.
In fact, as soon as Victoria had the chance, she slipped off to the side of the battle, snaring a handy vampire by the neck and whipping him around and against the stone wall in a natural little alcove. “Where is Lilith?” she demanded, poising the stake to strike.